


When You Smile, I Fall Apart

by TheBlackWook



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Javert is Combeferre's Father, Modern Era, Single Parent Javert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6941542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackWook/pseuds/TheBlackWook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Javert had never imagined he would become a father one day. And yet, when he met Combeferre, his life took an unexpected turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Smile, I Fall Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all ! I had this idea a while ago on tumblr and talked about it with **lesmiserablol**. Some of the action is inspired by this amazing cookie's headcanons when I told her about this idea. I'd like to thank **jellyfish415** , my beta-reader, my twin : thank you for all your support and your positive thoughts !! 
> 
> A final note before letting you read : I've written this one-shot while listening to _Dear Theodosia_ from the musical **Hamilton**. The titlle is directly taken from this song (Hamilton's verse) and I recommend you listen to this song while reading this, but it's up to you :) ! 
> 
> See you soon and I hope you'll enjoy the fic !

Javert had never imagined he would be passing through this door and find himself in this hall whose walls were full of colours, inspirational words and photographs. To be completely honest, he had never imagined he would be a father in the first place. 

This duty had behoved him some twenty years ago. He had received a letter one day, stating he had a child and that the mother had died just a week ago. At first, he had thought this was nothing but a joke but the letter had seemed official, therefore he had come. When he had arrived, he had a met a one-year old boy with brown skin, curious of everything. His name was Combeferre, maybe not the most common name if you asked Javert but then, who was he to judge ? His mother had died from lung cancer. When he had been told her name that was when it had it him. This had been two years ago. After a particularly bad day at work, he had gone to a bar and had drunk all that he could, one of the few nights he wanted to forget sometimes. He had been careless. He had seen this girl; she had been eying him all night and one thing leading to another, they had spent the night together, all the while forgetting any precaution that was usually needed on such occasion.

It had been a mistake, a single mistake that changed everything. He had submitted himself to a paternity test and when it had turned out he was, indeed, Combeferre’s father, he had known then it was his duty to care and provide for the child. He was his own flesh after all, and if Javert had been more careful it wouldn’t have come to this.  
The first months had been tough. The policeman knew absolutely nothing about children and how to care for them. In addition, his small flat was not fit at all for a toddler to live in it. There was no spare bedroom for example and Combeferre’s bed ended up being next to Javert’s. The first nights had been awful to say the least : the child missed his mother and Javert was completely clueless as to what to do to calm the cries of his son. After a while though, he had managed to find a way, alternating between bouncing and softly rocking the boy in his arms. Every time it happened, the policeman felt strange, almost out of place. This was not meant to be. He was not meant to be a father. For as long as he could remember, he had always assumed and accepted the fact that he would never marry and never make a family. This was just how things were supposed to be. Apparently, God, fate or whatever it was, had decided that it would be funny to see how he would do with a one year old under his care. Funnily enough, he did not see how this could actually be a good idea. 

Yet, as time passed, he felt a strange warmth surging through his heart whenever he looked at his son or interacted with him. The first time he had felt it, the sun was only beginning to rise, its rays penetrating the bedroom through the curtains. When Javert had come to consciousness, he had felt an unfamiliar weight on his chest. When he had opened his eyes, he had not imagined what he would see, but this was maybe the most beautiful vision he had ever seen in all his life. Combeferre was lying on his chest, his thumb in his mouth. His face was peaceful and his short and curly black hair was messy. Javert did not know how he had managed to come out of his crib. A brief look and the man saw that the zipper of the bed had been undone. This kid was clever. Javert looked back to his son, and was petrified for a moment, afraid he would break the moment. But he then proceeded to encircle the boy’s body with his arms. This had been the first hug Javert had ever given to someone other than his mother. And for the first time in his life, he had thought this felt right. 

Step by step, Javert had fallen into his role as a father. He had obtained flexible hours from his chief, and he was often the only man waiting in front of the school, drowned in the middle of all those mothers that kept looking at him with amused eyes. At nights, Combeferre kept undoing the zipper of his bed and climbing on Javert’s to snuggle next to him. The policeman did not mind, in fact, he loved the feeling. More importantly, he was overwhelmed to see such a small being showing him acceptance, kindness and utter love. He had always inspired pity, hate or fear to others. Some, who were braver, had shown him kindness or neutrality but those were rare. But here, at nights, a protective arm around his son, Javert felt at peace, he could pretend everything was easy.

As Combeferre grew up, it had become clear to the policeman that his son was clever, more so than the other kids he could be around. He quickly learnt how to read and finished every book he could get his hands on. By the age of ten, he already knew more than Javert had ever learnt in his childhood. He knew then he would do anything for his son to get the best education he could afford. He doubled his hours at the police station and used what he had saved to afford a bigger flat for the both of them; one that would give Combeferre enough space to study and grow up properly; one in which Javert could have a bedroom again, having left his own to his son when he had turned five.  
Javert was always marvelled at how much his son knew. Of course, he kept a vigilant eye on the boy’s studies, always insisting on the importance of doing well at school. This brought up some tensions during Combeferre’s teenage years, but always he would see why his father would be so stubborn and strict about this precise matter. Always, both father and son would reconcile soon, even if Ferre’s puberty made him taller than Javert, a sensible subject. They only had each other after all. The two of them were always happy to share. Javert especially loved when Combeferre told him about the stars. Not the myths and legends he had told his son when he was younger, but the scientific facts about them and how they worked and the policeman would always cherish those moments. 

When time had come for Combeferre to go to middle school, Javert offered him a place in a private school, one of the best in the whole country where he was sure his son would get the education he thought he deserved. This was there that the teenager had met his best friend : Enjolras. At first, he had been a funny boy, full of passion and stories of revolution. As the years passed, this was clear the passion and the revolution would never cease to exist in this boy. Combeferre eventually followed in the footsteps of the blonde boy, though he was of a calmer and softer nature. Seeing how this woulf evolve in the future, Javert made sure to give his son all knowledge as to how to act if he ever got arrested during a protest, if he ever was arrested at all. 

The relationship between father and son had always been close, but as the boy was becoming a man, Ferre, his preferred nickname, inevitably got more secretive, more private about certain matters. This was just how life went, or at least he imagined this had to be. Until now.  
Javert had discovered by accident that his son was homosexual. They had never really discussed sexuality before. Javert had only insisted on contraceptives and took him to a doctor to get all explanations about the matter. But the father had always let his son alone as regard the matter of the heart. It was not as if Combeferre had brought home someone or even had a relationship with someone, but he was still grateful to see his father was not pushing the issue as other parents often did.

 

And so, here Javert was, in the hall of a LGBTQA+ shelter. He saw a familiar face at the desk and approached her. This was Fantine, the only mom that had befriended him when he had waited for Ferre at kindergarten and primary school. She had also watched over the boy several times, when Javert couldn’t change his shift.

“Good afternoon, Javert. I never thought I would see you there.”

“My neither, Fantine. But it’s about Combeferre.”

“Is he alright ?”

“Yes. But er- I need information. I- I don’t know if I’m reacting correctly, and I want to make things right.”

She only smiled at him warmly and proceeded to talk with him, give him some papers and reassure him.

 

That night, when Combeferre went home after his classes of med school, Javert had already prepared dinner. This was nothing fancy but he had clearly improved his cooking skills since his boy had first come into his life. After the curly-haired boy finished telling his father about his day, the inspector put his fork down on the table. 

“Er- Listen Ferre. I want you to know that it doesn’t change anything for me. If you love boys, I mean. It was an accident how I learnt it, I heard you talking with Enjolras.” 

Combeferre tensed, understanding what his father was talking about. 

“You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll always support you, no matter what. I’ll always be there for you. I’m still not sure if I’m handling this correctly but I want to make things right for you.”

This was all the student needed and he hugged his father after their dinner. This reassured Javert and lessened his nervousness about saying the right things and reacting in the good way. And like that, both of them found themselves falling into a comfortable acknowledgement. Javert would ask from time to time if Ferre had anyone in his sights, any “cute boys at school”. Even if he felt embarrassed sometimes, he could not help but appreciate the gesture. But still, even if the subject was not a problem, the student still was not sure about presenting his boyfriend to his father. He had been dating him for some time now, and had known him for a much longer time in fact. The problem was : Javert already knew who he was.

 

When the fateful day came, Javert made sure to look presentable and to cook something decent, he did not want to embarrass his son, he did not want to betray his trust. Funny how he would feel betrayed in the end.

As the doorbell rang and Combeferre was sweating uncontrollably from stress, he went to open the door. He froze when he was who was in front of him.

“ _You !_ ” He said as he regained composure

Here standing on the doorstep was Courfeyrac. He was always smiling and was maybe the most talkative member of Combeferre’s group of friends. They had met thanks to Enjolras. Javert had first met him when he had arrested him at a protest, which was clearly not the best way for a first meeting. The inspector loved his son but he and his friends’ activities would be the death of him one day.

“Hey Inspector.” Courfeyrac tried to clear the air, but to no avail.

Dinner was spent awkwardly, most of it in silence. Combeferre’s boyfriend tried to initiate conversation or to compliment Javert’s cooking skills, but this did not help his case.

“Look son, I know I said it didn’t matter but he’s a criminal !” Said Javert after Courfeyrac was gone.

“Dad, you know as well as I do that he’s hardly d-“

“NO !”

Combeferre was never one to be infuriated openly. If he was, he always kept it down, within himself. And that’s exactly what he did that night. He only gave a dark glance to his father before locking himself up in his bedroom and not uttering another word to his father. For days he remained silent in his father’s presence, and it infuriated Javert at first. But he knew his son, he knew if he had presented him Courfeyrac it was because it meant something, that he trusted him. And whenever Javert would overhear Combeferre talking with his boyfriend on the phone, he would see the happiness radiating right from him. He had never looked so happy than in Coufeyrac’s presence and the inspector felt bad for reacting like he did. The next day he apologized by inviting Courfeyrac again. He still cringed from time to time but whenever he saw the smile plastered on Combeferre’s face, he could not help but smile as well. He would not admit it out loud but whenever the lips of his son were curved upwards, he was knocked out and undone. He had promised himself he would do whatever it takes to make it right to him, to make the world safe and sound for him. He was his son and Javert would never change a thing, he would still sleep with that woman if it meant having Combeferre in his life.


End file.
